


Just Peachy

by AmanaMistleaf



Series: Sweet-Apple Blend [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Baking, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Claudeleth Week (Fire Emblem), Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, HE LOVES HIS WIFE, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), but he's a dummy, he's trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmanaMistleaf/pseuds/AmanaMistleaf
Summary: How could Claude have done something so stupid?!
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Sweet-Apple Blend [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632028
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71
Collections: Claudeleth Week 2020





	Just Peachy

_“You are just sooo lucky to be married! And at such a young age to boot!”_ Manuela once told Byleth while in a drunken stupor (and as if she wasn’t twenty-five). _“And to that_ beautiful _piece of a man… I bet he fulfills all of your fantasies in-”_

Byleth chose to block the rest of that sentence from her memory.

In truth, she was lucky. She was lucky to have Claude return her feelings, lucky to have a proper ceremony during the war, and so, so much more. She often wondered if she dreamt of their whole relationship; she sometimes feared she would wake up one morning with no ring on her finger. But no, when she awoke in his death grip of a cuddle, she knew it was real.

So yes: Byleth was _incredibly_ lucky to be married and loved her husband more than anything.

But at this very moment in time, that love was tested.

“What in the actual fuck did you do?”

Byleth stood in front of her husband, arms crossed and towering over him. The man in question was currently on his back, flipped over into a load of crates and boxes. Brussels of produce and supplies laid scattered around him, some completely squashed or rolling away to be taken by some lucky Monastery animal. Amongst the rubble was Claude’s pearl-white wyvern, and in no better shape than her master; the beast, although overturned, was sniffing at one of the open crates and lapping at whatever fruits were rolling out.

Claude groaned, shifting his position only to wince in pain. “Such cruel words from such a dazzling maiden. What have I done to deserve such abuse?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, you dolt!” Byleth fumed, recoiling at the sickeningly sweet scent of peaches wafted through the air. _He must have landed on a crate full of the fruit. Gods fucking dammit._

“Okay, sooooo - don’t get mad - I _might_ have - once again, don’t get mad - I might have tried to fly upside down?” _Dumbass dumbass dumbass._ “I know that’s a pretty bad idea in retrospect, but I exist only to defy expectations-”

“YOU DUMBASS!” Byleth suddenly cried, garnering the attention of hesitant passerbys. “Do you have _any_ idea how terrifying it was to see you plummet down from your wyvern?! I thought someone shot you down!”

The stand-in archbishop hiccuped, using the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away her burning tears. “You could have _died,_ Kh-Claude!” Despite how pissed she was at him, she remembered to cover up his real name; although she came _very_ close. That would have been a fun mess to clean up.

Her entire body felt more coiled than a resting snake, heavy breaths interrupted by escaping sobs. She was only able to focus on the man in front of her, vision tunneling. The look in her husband’s eyes only made matters worse; those bright emerald gems pleaded with her, begging for _something._

The sounds of a gathering crowd broke her daze, pulse pounding in her head. Soldiers and former students whispered amongst themselves, conversations varying from speculations of their leader’s health to Byleth’s reaction. Her breathing quickened as she panicked, not knowing what to do. 

“Byleth, I-”

Byleth spotted Hilda and Marianne running towards them. “I-I have to go.” She cut him off, turning away and shielding her face. “I’m sorry. I just - I’m sorry.”

No one saw her for the rest of the day.

…

The door to her bedroom opened with a light creak -- present enough to inform her someone had entered, but not enough to disrupt her from her work. Knowing there was only one person in the world who would enter her space without knocking, she decided to stay focused on the documents in front of her. She was acutely aware of the sound of the door shutting oh so gently and soft footsteps journeying over to where she was seated at the desk.

One thing she didn’t expect was the strong scent of spices and...citrus? No, the smell was too sweet for that: peaches.

“By,” Claude whispered in that soft voice of his -- one he used to inform her he was behind her. 

She hummed to let him know he was acknowledged. 

A small bowl of what looked to be peach cobbler was set next to her, a dollop of cream adorning it and steam still curling through the air. Byleth couldn’t help her mouth from watering, the fruit and spices enticing her to take a bite. She blinked, throwing that thought out of her mind. _No, don’t let him win whatever game this is -- if he’s even playing one._

“What is this?” Byleth asked in a neutral tone.

“We had to salvage what I landed on. A lot of the fruit needed to find some use so as to not go to waste, so I made this for you,” Claude replied, an edge of sadness finding his voice. “And there’s more than just this; if you want something else, I’m sure there’s a smorgasbord of desserts in the dining hall.”

The green-haired woman frowned, trying to picture the amount of produce he fell on. “Just how much fruit was used in this _‘salvage’?_ ”

“Let’s just say we’ll be having dessert for dinner and breakfast, and we have more applesauce than we know what to do with.”

That got a chuckle out of Byleth, finally biting the bullet and trying a spoonful of the cobbler. The warmth that flowed through her after the first bite was like a warm blanket and the Almyran spices while the peaches waltzed against her tongue; the cream was a refreshing finish, cleansing her pallet enough to prepare her for another bite. 

“How is it?” Claude shifted behind her, daring to come a step closer.

She was half-way finished when he asked, leaning back in her chair. “It’s perfect, just like everything else you make.” Byleth truly was spoiled by her husband, eager to try whatever dishes he presented to her.

She set her spoon down, reluctantly pushing the dessert away. “...How are you feeling? You’re out and about, so I’m assuming there was no major damage?”

She could hear the air woosh as he shook his head. “Just a few scrapes and some bruised ribs: nothing Marianne couldn’t fix,” he replied, kneeling down to be level with the chair. “Seterah is also fine, in case you were wondering. It’ll take more than a few crates to hurt the ‘ole girl.”

Byleth sighed as she felt Claude’s arms wrap around her neck, face burying itself into her hair. “I’m sorry for worrying you -- it was an _incredibly_ stupid decision and I’m sorry.”

She clenched her fists, bunching the fabric of her shorts. “I accept your apology, and offer you one of my own.” She released a shuddering breath, clenching her eyes shut to fight off the images that threatened to invade her mind. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you or called you names. I know I could have handled it better and I’m sorry. I was so worried that you...that you had...you know…”

He nuzzled further into her, stubble tickling her neck. “Is this because of...the thing?” _The thing_ is how he liked to refer to the Divine Pulse. Byleth had confided her ability to him long ago after a particularly gruesome fight.

She nodded, the sound of Seterah’s dying screech and the deafening crunch of Claude’s body against hard stone echoed through her mind.

“...I’m sorry.” Her husband pressed desperate kisses all over her neck and cheeks, hugging her tighter. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like to live through that. I’m sorry.”

Byleth choked on a sob, body trembling and pulse pounding. “I-I don’t want to -- I _can’t_ lose you! Every time I have to undo your death I feel like there’s a knife in my heart! I know it’s only temporary but the fact that it happened hurts so much!”

Claude kissed her with enough strength to force all of the air out of her lungs. He swallowed every whimper and hiccup, hands deceptively soft against her cheeks as he wiped away her tears. Byleth gripped onto his shirt with all she had; it was as if they would disappear should one let go.

“I love you,” the Almyran prince whispered against her mouth, gently nipping her lower lip. “You are so, so damn brave; I don’t know how you do it.” He moved from her lips to her forehead, pressing the softest of kisses there. “I know promises are hard to make during the war, I really do, but the one thing that I can promise is that I _will_ be by your side for every moment. _You_ are my dream, Byleth. _You_ are the one I want to have a family and grow old with. _You_ are the one I want to rule as queen by my side. I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to help you get through the horrors you face. I’m sorry.”

Byleth did not know how she ended up standing and in her husband’s arms, but she was not about to complain; her head was placed right on his strong heartbeat, each pump easing her nerves. “Please...don’t leave me… I’ve already lost Dad and I can’t lose you!”

 _“Shhh...shhh, my sweet… I’m right here; I will_ always _be here…”_ he said in Almyran. The way his voice purred in her ear and dropped an octave never failed to send a shiver down her spine -- it was a good distraction.

She whined as he pulled her face away from his chest, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her tears. His eyes were alight, lips slightly curled as he fought to hide a smile. “Why are you pouting?” There was a lilt to his voice, one he often took on after switching from Almyran to Fódlani. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?”

Byleth sighed, nuzzling into her husband’s wrist. “You’re a dumbass.”

“Ah, that I am.” He gave her a curt pat on the head. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better? Anything at all?”

The former professor eyed her discarded cobbler, a feeling of longing overtaking her. “My dessert has probably gone cold.”

“You want me to get you a new one?”

“Yes please.”

Claude rolled his eyes, giving a soft chuckle. “As my lady commands.” With one last kiss to her forehead, he swept out of their room.

Byleth crossed her arms, a soft smile creeping up her lips. _I’m so glad I married such a lovable idiot._

**Author's Note:**

> And that wraps it up for Claudeleth Week 2020! I had a ton of fun participating! I'm still in a ton of pain from my surgery and am incredibly drowsy from not taking my ADHD meds for three days. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
